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Football, I’ve long maintained, is a package sport: to enjoy it you have to tolerate everything that comes with it—the constant advertising, corruption, hooliganism, tribalism, racism, offensively inane punditry. As a child I enjoyed football largely, I suspect, because I was not particularly aware of these things. It was only as I got older, when my knowledge of the game developed beyond what was happening on the pitch, that I began to lose interest in following it.

It’s 9th November 2016 and Donald Trump, a man synonymous with multiple bankruptcies, unapologetic bigotry, extreme physical and moral repulsiveness and a staunch belief in his own brilliance has just won the 2016 presidential election.